The Forgotten Queen by D. L. Bogdan Page A

before you brought them into this world of the effect they could have on your future? On Scotland’s future? And these women . . . these—these—” I searched for a word, a word nasty enough to encompass what these women were to me, a word unfit to spring forth from a queen’s lips, a word I had heard long ago. “These whores of yours! Surely they were happy to give you children in the hopes of raising themselves high and the children even higher!”
    Jamie remained very quiet during my tirade and when at last I could think of no more insults to hurl forth he approached. I could not read his face. Perhaps I had gone too far . . . perhaps in my unbridled anger I had sabotaged any growing affection he may have harbored for me.
    To my astonishment he swept me up in his arms and carried me across the floor to the window seat and, holding me across his lap, he sat, cradling me against his chest.
    “Maggie,” he began, his intoxicating tone low as he stroked my hair. “Try and remember, little one, that for the whole of your life I have been a grown man. And ’tis true there are many times when my excessively amorous nature ruled over sound logic. I canna speak for the ladies’ motivations, but I would like to think they were not so sordid as you imply. But then”—he shrugged—“I do not know. I do know that my children, despite whatever favor showered upon them, will never usurp the place of the royal children, neither in my heart nor on the throne of Scotland.”
    “But you do not know what they could do, what they may be capable of when they grow up and begin to lust for a power they may see as their birthright,” I told him, my voice small with fear.
    “A legitimate concern, and one I have taken into consideration. But the relationship I promote with my children is a loving one and it is my hope they will be too bound to me through their affection to ever conspire against me,” he reasoned.
    “And their mothers? Or your enemies? Are they so ‘bound to you through their affection’ that they will not use them against you?”
    Jamie flinched. “There is no way of knowing.” He bowed his head. “I was used in such a way. . . .” His eyes clouded over as he shook his head, as though ridding himself of dark and terrible thoughts. “I was prevented from knowing my father . . . and his enemies used me against him in the worst way imaginable.”
    “How?” I asked, my jealousy yielding to concern as I noted the profound sadness etched upon my husband’s features.
    “We must not discuss such things, dearest. Only know that I am raising my children in the hopes that our closeness will cultivate a loyalty that the cleverest of my enemies canna permeate. I—I love them, Maggie,” he told me. “Can you understand?” Tears welled bright in his green eyes. They sparkled like emeralds. “It is my hope that someday you can meet them and perhaps . . . perhaps grow to care for them. I would never expect you to love them as your own but perhaps . . . Do not think on it; it is a lot to ask now, but . . . someday.”
    Indeed I could not bear to think of it, but to prevent any discord I said nothing, bowing my head and pursing my lips should they decide to betray me by blurting out something even more unbecoming than had already been spoken.
    “What are their names?” I asked at last, unsure if I wanted to know but feigning sincerity to remain in his good graces.
    “There is James, Alexander and Catherine, Margaret.” This he said with a flinch and I assumed she was by that other Margaret. “And Janet.”
    I was silent a long time. “Quite the family,” I remarked before I could help myself. “Well, someday we’ll have our own babies and you will have to love them most,” I added with a scowl.
    Jamie sighed, said nothing, and began to sway.
    My mind raced; my heart pounded. He is my husband! I wanted to shout to his mistresses, present and former. Mine and not yours! And someday I would have the only